Caught off guard by the deafening noise, Lin Yuhan jolted, throwing her wide gaze up at Tang Wulin.Isn’t he going to probe it first? He’s just going to start like that?
Tang Wulin swiftly followed up with another booming strike, and the moment it connected, he rode the rebound momentum, spinning in place and delivering another strike with his hammers. He continued this technique, alternating between each hammer as he steadily forged the heavy silver. His pace was slower than when he had forged the blue coppertite, but each strike carried far more weight.
Zhanggong Yan’s jaw dropped, his gaze quivering.That’s the Tang Sect’s Disorder Splitting Wind Hammer technique!
Thunder crashed again and again. The room trembled.
Upon the seventh impact, the heavy silver let out a burst of light. It was now hundred refined!
Without pause, Tang Wulin continued on with the Disorder Splitting Wind Hammer technique. The greatest strength of the technique was how it built upon itself, each strike growing stronger than the last. Hammer after hammer slammed into the heavy silver, building a tempestuous song of metal. The picture of power.
Even before such tyrannical might, the heavy silver showed no signs of damage. No signs of yielding. Rather, it shone more radiantly with each strike received.
The sixteenth strike landed. Another beam of light burst from the heavy silver straight into the air, no less than two meters tall. Silver resplendence dyed the hall, close at chase with a draconic roar. It grew louder, rumbling as it did so. And in response, Tang Wulin’s piece of heavy silver shone even more brilliantly, resonating with the roar.
Having just finished hundred refining her piece, Lin Yuhan glanced up from her work. Her breath caught in her throat, the culprit the combination of Tang Wulin’s two golden soul rings and the golden scales creeping across his torso.
A wave of might exploded from within him. His blood essence surged into his hammers, dying them a dull gold.
Tang Wulin continued with the Disorder Splitting Wind Hammer technique without missing a beat. He struck down for the seventeenth time. Six booms shook the hall, each one successively louder.
Howling winds accompanied Tang Wulin’s hammers as they whirled through the air. Draconic roars filled the hall with each strike. By this point, whether the roars came from Tang Wulin’s body or his thousand refined piece of heavy silver was indistinguishable. He was a storm incarnate. Nothing could stand before him!
In fact, some of the more attentive spectators noticed that Tang Wulin’s forging table had sunk into the ground. How much force his hammers carried they could only imagine.
The thirty-third strike landed and the hall shuddered, the boom ear-splitting. This time, instead of a roar, something more akin to a dragon’s snarl ripped through the arena. A phantom silver dragon erupted from the heavy silver. Its target, T
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